


Throw Roses in the Rain

by theshipsfirstmate



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: 4am fic, F/M, season 4 spec
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-21
Updated: 2015-09-21
Packaged: 2018-04-22 19:30:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4847555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theshipsfirstmate/pseuds/theshipsfirstmate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ficlet based on a quote about Oliver and Donna's relationship in season 4.</p><p>"It wasn’t that she didn’t like him. Oliver Queen had been unfailingly polite and unflinchingly in love with her daughter since the day that Donna Smoak first laid eyes on the man."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Throw Roses in the Rain

_A/N: Season 4 spec ficlet. Based on some quote about Oliver and Donna’s relationship in season 4 not being what we expected. Title from “Thunder Road” ‘cause I got a headcanon thing going right now where Donna’s got a thing for Springsteen._

**Throw Roses in the Rain**

It wasn’t that she didn’t like him. Oliver Queen had been unfailingly polite and unflinchingly in love with her daughter since the day that Donna Smoak first laid eyes on the man. (And, let’s be honest, the impressive physique didn’t do anything to hurt his case.) One look at his face had her melting, one look at him with Felicity had her swooning, and praying the things her friend Jackie read in Us Weekly weren’t true.

It was, a little bit, that he was trouble. Not trouble like the good-for-nothing boys back home, not trouble like the handsy slimeballs at work, not even Us Weekly trouble. No, Oliver Queen was trouble like Felicity’s father had been trouble, trouble in a real way. Donna was as certain of this as she was certain that her little girl didn’t deserve any more trouble in this lifetime. And yet, she finds herself thinking Oliver might agree with that sentiment, and she only truly fears for those who try to put their trouble between this man and her daughter.

It wasn’t because of the money thing, either. Of course, that’s what Felicity would think it was. It wasn’t the shock of arriving in town and being given the address of what turned out to be a penthouse apartment instead of Felicity’s old condo. It wasn’t even that said penthouse was palatial, or that Donna had felt like the only one who wasn’t royalty among the Queens.

It was, a little bit, seeing her daughter so domestic in a way that didn’t involve Donna at all. Felicity has lived plenty of places. Dormitories, student condos, that room at the Bellagio she had hacked them into one year when things were especially tight, and eventually her own apartments. But this was a _home_ , and not just because of the man whose broad shoulders relaxed when he looked at her, like somehow _she_ was everything he needed to feel safe. This was matching dining room chairs and a little table by the door where they sorted their mail, a kitchen full of food despite the fact that Felicity still couldn’t cook worth a damn. Her daughter had a home and Donna was a visitor.

It wasn’t about how she had caught Oliver fiddling with a ring one night when she was supposed to be asleep. He had been out on the balcony, twirling the thing between his fingers, and when she joined him, he hadn’t freaked out, hadn’t even flinched.

_“I wasn’t sure if I should…ask you,” he had stammered after a minute and she had laughed at near-full volume until his face crumpled._

_“Oh honey, is that it?” she asked carefully. “Or is it that you’re not sure if you should ask her?”_

_“She already knows.” Oliver is a constant surprise to her, but the thing she couldn't figure out then was why he looked so distraught. “I’m pretty sure she knows, anyway, she’s too smart for me.”_

_“She’s too smart for most of us,” Donna nodded sympathetically, patting him on the arm. “Doesn’t mean I don’t know what she’d say.”_

_“I think I do too,” he had admitted, face softening. “I’m just waiting for the right… I want it to be…”_

_“If you’re gonna say perfect, I’m gonna have to stop you right there.”_

_“Not perfect,” _he shook his head but she was sure he had been lying, covering at least,_ “just better. Better than…what’s happening now. She deserves the best of everything.”_

It wasn’t that she thought it was too soon.

It was, a little bit, how Donna had tried to help Felicity pick up the pieces when things with that Cooper boy had gone under. Not that there had been many pieces left scattered by the time she had been able to see her daughter over the next school holiday. By then, Felicity's hair was already blonde and her mind was already made up and all of her tears were guilty ones. That was different now too, Donna thought, that whole memory, that whole huge moment in their lives, further marred by that boy’s repeated betrayal.

But it wasn’t that she didn’t trust Oliver. She hadn’t doubted him since the second her head whipped around in an empty warehouse and caught a glint of her attempted-rescuer’s hooded eyes. It was just a flash, but it was unmistakable, the way he was watching them, looking on as Felicity handled herself, pride mixed with worry. That was when she had figured them out or at least, attempted to start.

It was, a little bit, the magnitude of Oliver in Felicity’s world. He’s her life, her love, somehow her work too. Plus, she’s involved in this, whatever this hood thing is that he does, this extra trouble. Donna’s known a few different editions of her daughter in twenty-five years – before and after her father, before and after Cooper. But “before Oliver” feels like a lifetime ago, even to Donna, and “after Oliver,” well, it feels like there might be nothing left after Oliver. It’s the only part of this that really matters at all, the only reason her mother’s intuition insists on being cautious with this new happiness.

No, this wasn’t really about how Donna liked Oliver, at all. It was about how Felicity loved him.


End file.
